


(Can Anybody Find Me) Somebody To Love

by sammichgirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Comment Fic, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Valentine's Day, Weecest, Wincest - Freeform, high school heartbreak, spn be mine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2020-02-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:07:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22685980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sammichgirl/pseuds/sammichgirl
Summary: Prompt: Sam's first Valentine ever turns out to be a mean-spirited prank on the new kid by the boy/girl Sam was crushing on at school. He's super bummed. Dean decides to cheer him up.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Comments: 18
Kudos: 179





	(Can Anybody Find Me) Somebody To Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cherie_morte](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherie_morte/gifts).



> Written for [cherie-morte ](https://cherie-morte.livejournal.com//) at the [Be Mine SPN/RPF Comment Fic Meme.](https://kelleigh.livejournal.com/360397.html/)
> 
> Happy Valentine's to you, dear one, and hope you enjoy!
> 
> Title shamelessly borrowed from Queen. Thanks to [theatregirl7299 ](https://twitter.com/Theatregirl7299/) for a super speedy beta!

It was quiet, way too quiet. After a full day of high-spirited high school hijinks on Valentine’s day, the hallway from Sam’s last class around the corner to his locker was deathly still. He thought it a bit odd that everyone was just milling about, but maybe something big was going down he wasn’t aware of – he didn’t really keep up with the social trends. Maybe some cheerleader was about to have a giant proclamation of love from her basketball boyfriend. Or maybe the two teachers everyone had been gossiping about the last couple weeks were making it public. All Sam cared about was finding what he was sure was another clue to who his secret Valentine could be.

He’d been finding silly little gifts on his desk at each class during the day. At lunch there was a heart shaped cookie waiting for him at the register when he bought his milk. Someone had been slipping poetic notes into his locker all day – not to mention the surprise he found in his locker first thing that morning. Someone knew the combination and had left him a single, long-stemmed, thorny red rose.

Surprised would have been a good word to describe Sam at the start of the day, wary, yet happily so. He grew increasingly sappy and pink cheeked each time he found a gift, daydreaming through classes as to who his admirer could be. He had an _admirer_. Someone wanted to be his _Valentine_. Someone wanted to be with _him_. He hadn’t been here that long to have attracted someone, at least, that’s what he thought. It had to be someone he saw and interacted with every day. Could it be Becca, his chem lab partner? She was smart, cute and seemed into him, except…maybe it was Ryan. Sometimes they hung out at lunch and played chess and Sam was really into how Ryan bit his lip when he made a move that would always cost him the game. They’d never done more than talk really, about school and college dreams, comparing their grades and yet Sam found himself drawn more and more to him, finding reasons to want to spend more time together when circumstances allowed. It was dangerous, because he never knew how much longer he’d be staying, but he was pretty sure the Winchesters would be here for several weeks more, at least. Plenty of time to explore his feelings and see if they were reciprocated.

When Sam got to his locker, he took a deep breath and slowly dialed the combination. He felt like all eyes were on him, as a nervous flush came over him. He almost didn’t want to think about the possibility that _he_ was the one getting a big proclamation. He let himself celebrate with joy in his head at the thought of Ryan publicly outing himself to tell everyone how he felt about Sam. Maybe there’d be balloons or confetti or something ultra-cheesy to end this day of delights behind the door. Sam wanted to cherish it, he wanted to believe in the magic of the moment. Even if it wasn’t Ryan, _someone_ wanted to be his.

As he spun the last number into place with a click, the door unlocked, and Sam lifted up the handle to slowly open the locker door. He closed his eyes, smiling, and he could still feel the weight of the stares of everyone around him. It sounded like one giant intake of held breath as he swung the door open and when he opened his eyes –

Nothing. There was nothing there. No note, no flowers, definitely no balloons or confetti. Sam’s smile turned to almost a pout as he peered in to make sure he hadn’t missed anything.

That’s when he felt the ice-cold chill settle over his neck and shoulders, down his back, splashing all around him in a cascade, puddling at his feet.

Laughter rang out in the hallway, bubbling up like soda carbonation. Sam pulled back from his locker, thankful for the slushy water streaming from his head and hair, covering his tears. He wasn’t sad, though, not by far. He was angry.

The slamming of the locker door rang down the hall against the laughter. The following sound of said locker being punched hard enough to leave a dent followed, as the laughter died into guarded quiet. Sam looked around, fire burning in his eyes, blood trickling over his knuckles as he searched out the one that had done this. He waited for someone, anyone, to come forward.

No one moved. An empty water cooler, usually hoisted over a winning coach in celebration, stood empty on the floor next to Sam. He kicked it, knocking it over, sending it rolling down the hallway. Grabbing his soaked backpack from the floor, he hoisted it over his shoulder, turning to make his way to the exit. He made brief eye contact with Becca as he passed her by, and she followed him out silently to the side of the school.

When Sam was outside, he took a deep breath of fresh air, willing the tears back as he shook his head, shaking it all off. He rolled his shoulders and braced himself, turning around to find Becca standing behind him. She looked right at him, sadness on her face, as she whispered a single word.

“Ryan.”

Sam felt shell-shocked. _Ryan? RYAN?_ Trying to process that the first guy he’d majorly crushed on, the one he thought might actually be into him too, might be his admirer, had only made a fool of him. His shoulders dropped, and Becca winced when she saw the clear pain on his face.

“I’m sorry, Sam – I – “ and then she turned, not quite running but clearly upset herself as she made her way to her bus.

Sam trudged back to the motel a few miles from school, wallowing in his own sadness as he replayed moments with Ryan the last couple weeks. Did Sam come on too strong? Had he given himself away? He didn’t think so, since there hadn’t been any real flirting that he could think of. Just two guys vying to be the best in their school.

Two guys tied for the #1 rank in their class.

Two guys, one the new kid; one the kid that had been the golden boy since forever in this town.

One scholarship.

Ryan had no way to know Sam wouldn’t have been around for the finale of that battle. That he would have moved on to another school, another town. And he’d set Sam up. To what though? Break his heart? Distract him from keeping his eye on the prize? Well, he’d done all that and more. Sam sniffled, using his sleeve to wipe his face of the tear tracks and snot. His family couldn’t see him like this.

Dean couldn’t see him like this.

_Dean._

His big brother was going to rip the lungs out of Ryan if he ever found out. Sam swallowed hard, trying to put his game face back on. Maybe he could just blame the lack of joviality on being alone for Valentine’s day when the whole world seemed to go two by two. Dean might buy that from him. _And maybe pigs can fly_.

He sighed as he approached the motel. The only two cars in the parking lot were Baby and the front desk manager’s. He could hear the sounds of a shoot ‘em up action movie blaring from room 7, which meant Dean was probably already halfway through a six pack. Sam figured he might actually get through the evening without further drama if he was lucky.

He slid his key into the lock and before he could finish turning it, Dean had flung the door open, his stony don’t-fuck-with-me face morphing into soft fondness when he saw Sam standing there.

That softness turned to steely flint when Dean gave him a head to toe check and Sam bit his lip as he geared up for the verbal sparring.

“Who’s head am I bashing in?” _Is he ok, he needs to be ok._

“Dean, it’s fine, it’s – “ _Not at all fine._

“Sam. Who’s. Ass. Am. I. Kicking.” _Touch, touch, check him over._

“Dean. I got this, it’s done.” _It wasn’t._

“You kicked ass? Way to go, kiddo.” _Atta boy._

“Dean, I didn’t, I mean, it’s. Just, let it go, ok?” _Keep breathing, just keep breathing._

“Sammy.” _My boy’s not ok._

“…”

“I’ll wrestle it outta you.” _Gotta make sure he’s ok._

“Dean, c’mon.” _Don’t let him see the hurt._

“…”

“Dean, please?” _Please don’t see._

“Yeah, alright. S’long as you’re really ok? You ok, Sammy?” _He’s not ok._

“Fine, Dean. Just. Hate this day.” _Fucking romance sucks._

“Aw Sammy, some girl break your heart?” _She’d better not have._

“…No.” _Stop, Dean, stop, don’t ask._

“Some guy break your heart?” _I’ll fucking kill him._

It was said in jest, but Sam hadn’t had a chance to really stifle all that down, it was still very raw in his mind. He didn’t even realize he was crying again until he heard Dean whisper, _“Shit,”_ and pull Sam fully into the motel room and settle him down on the bed.

He hated crying in front of anyone, but most of all, he hated crying in front of Dean. He tried to keep it at bay, but the tears wouldn’t stop, and they only got worse when Dean removed his sopping wet jacket and soggy shoes.

Dean turned off the TV and sat down next to him, laying him back on the bed.

“Shhhh, it’s ok, kiddo, it’s ok, I’m here, I’ve got you.” _Lemme take care of you._

Sam let himself be manhandled as Dean removed his cold, wet jeans, followed by his socks and his two layers of shirts. Left with just his damp, thin boxers, Sam shivered until Dean rolled him under the blankets and spooned behind him. Dean wrapped his arms around Sam, rocking him slightly as he let a hand trail through puppy curls, finger combing them as he whispered to Sam.

“Don’t you worry, Sam, you don’t need a Valentine when you’ve got me. I’ll always love you, little brother.” _Sometimes too much._

Sam couldn’t stop sniffling, he was embarrassed and still felt safer than ever. His broken heart wasn’t ready to heal, but that other part of his heart, the part that was Dean’s, it was loud in its demand to be heard.

Sam rolled over, facing Dean as he settled in to snuggle against his chest. They hadn’t done this in years, and Sam felt touch-starved, relishing in being held and reassured. The signals in his heart and mind were all mixed up, but if he had to tell the truth, in the moment he didn’t even care. That part of him that always reached out to Dean, that thread between them that always pulled, seemed to burn brighter, as if it were a live wire just needing a spark to ignite. 

Sam lifted his head to look at Dean, and found himself lost in a sea of grass green. Dean was still playing with the curls of his hair, the other hand moving up and down his back slowly, almost teasingly. Their legs tangled together, years of muscle memory and shared spaces rising to the forefront.

“Dean?” Sam felt breathless, like he was about to tumble over the edge of a cliff he’d been riding close to all his life.

“S’ok, Sammy. C’mere.” And then Sam felt Dean’s lips brush his. It was a barely there kiss, meant to comfort, meant to cherish. Sam was teetering, holding onto the only lifeline he knew, as Dean’s hand on the back of his neck pulled his head in closer, until the comfort became something deeper, until they slotted their bodies into each other the way the universe always knew they would.

It didn’t matter that they were both free falling, because they’d always catch each other.

Kisses deepened to biting nibbles, and Sam let his hands play underneath Dean’s shirt, stroking the creamy freckled skin he knew was there. He wanted to play connect the dots along Dean’s collarbone with his tongue and wasn’t sure he could ask. He wanted more, and moaned it so softly he didn’t think Dean would hear him.

Dean pulled back to check on him, and the seconds they maintained eye contact must have answered any qualms Dean had. Sam felt a rough hand sliding into his boxers, small callouses grazing along his hipbone as a thumb skirted the head of his cock, coming away sticky with precome.

“Ok, Sammy?” _Please don’t ask me to stop._

“Yeah, Dean, s’ok.” _Please don’t stop._

Dean’s hand slid back down to start stroking Sam’s cock again, light twists, just enough to punch out breathy whimpers. Sam rocked his hips into Dean’s hand, trying to kiss Dean in between gasping for air. Sam gave a moment’s pause to think _badwrongdirtyincest_ before he just let himself go. This was Dean, nothing with Dean would ever be those things, not when he felt like this.

Sam felt his orgasm fast approaching and tried to warn Dean who jacked him faster, urging him to come. When Sam did, he spilled over Dean’s hand and went practically limp in his embrace.

Dean raised his hand, licking away the come as Sam watched in blissful wonder, before they kissed each other senseless again. It was several minutes later when Sam thought to offer Dean reciprocation, and discovered the large wet patch on the front of Dean’s jeans.

“Jesus Christ, Dean. Did you really?” _Did I do that?_

Deans ears were pink, that fond smile, _Sammy’s smile_ , broad across his face.

“Looks like.” _Damn, Sammy was so hot._

“Dean?” _What happens now?_

“Yeah Sammy?” _Don’t say you’re sorry._

“What does this mean for us?” _We’re brothers, can we do this?_

“That I’m your Valentine.” _I’ll always be._

“No, really. What now?” _Don’t say you’re sorry._

“I’ll love you forever, little brother.” _Don’t ever doubt that._

“Dean.” _*bitchface*_

“Sam.” _*grins*_

“Jerk.” _I love you._

“Bitch.” _I love you, too._


End file.
